Decency and decorum: Seniors can teach us a thing or two

A day in the life of Neil Crone

Celia Klemenz / Metroland

PORT PERRY -- A day in the life of Neil Crone, actor, writer and comic. Mr. Crone having brewed up a super-size latte, enjoyed the most important part of his day, time spent meditating and grounding on his back deck, shared with his dog, Owen. August 8, 2013

In this light-speed, sound bite, point-and-click world we live in, it’s sometimes easy to get frustrated with seniors. They tend to move, drive and talk slowly. They have an exasperating affinity for paying with exact change and they can be reticent to embrace all the new technologies that let the rest of us chase our own tails so very quickly.

But say what you will about the people of my parents’ generation; those little grey heads seemingly lost in the front seat of those huge Crown Victorias making left turns with the nimbleness of aircraft carriers -- they could still teach the rest of us a thing or two.

These people still understand the value of a number of increasingly endangered human qualities. Like aboriginal elders who hold the oral traditions and histories of their people inside them, the men and women of my parents’ generation are the keepers of precious and sadly forgotten little things like manners, courtesy, decorum and respect.

At 86, even on a pair of knees that make a walk to the bathroom an ordeal, my father still goes the distance around the car to open the passenger door for my mother, as well as any other door she may happen to walk through. You will never see my father wearing a hat of any kind in an eating establishment. Likewise, my mother, even on her most casual days, wouldn’t look anything less than classy, clean and well-groomed. If my mother has a tattoo, I have never seen it and that’s just fine with me.

Many seniors haven’t a clue how to e-mail, text or tweet, but if you have ever been the recipient of one of their gloriously handwritten letters, thank-you notes or greeting cards, you will have remembered the thrill of real, meaningful, thoughtful communication.

My parents’ generation is by no means perfect. I still roll my eyes when I see someone in Bermuda shorts and compression stockings profligately watering an already green lawn in the desiccated days of August or idling one of their myriad Ford, Chrysler or Buick Dreadnoughts for 20 or 30 minutes, but I am willing to forgive such learned and habitual indiscretions or at least to turn the other cheek. Because these people may well be the last bastions of decency, courtesy and manners -- the very lubricants of this world. For even if we do manage to save this planet from ecological and geopolitical disaster, what good will fresh air, pure water and safe borders be to us if we have not learned to say please and thank you and you’re welcome?

The other day I was nearing the end of both a long, hot commute and my patience, when I found myself needing to merge into a line of very heavy traffic. I sat there as vehicle after vehicle heedlessly passed me by, each driver studiously refusing to make any kind of eye contact with anything or anyone that might retard their commute in any way. With every metronomic click of the turn signal I felt my anger rising like summer mercury. Until, finally, a politely smiling, wrinkled face appeared behind the wheel of an enormous car. A wave of a liver-spotted hand and I was let in. I waved back and received a civil nod from a graying head. My anger dissipated immediately. This is the power of manners and courtesy. This is what our elders have to teach us.

-- Durham resident Neil Crone is an actor, comic, and writer who saves his best lines for this column.